The Scranton High Chums on the Cinder Path eBook

take in passing from the second tally post, that old
tavern back of us, along this road to the canal, and
from there across the old logging road to Hobson’s
Pond, where there’s going to be the last registering
place before the dash for home. Well, I’ve
figured it out that a fellow would save considerable
ground if he left this same road half a mile below,
and cut across by way of the Juniper Swamp trail, striking
in again along about the Halpin Farm”

His remarks created no end of interest, for there
were several others among the bunch who had also entered
for that long-distance race; and, naturally, they
began to figure on how they might take advantage of
Hugh’s discovery. It was all for the honor
and credit of good old Scranton High; so that it really
mattered little just which fellow crossed the line
first, so long as he “saved the bacon.”

“It sounds pretty fine to me, Hugh,” said
Julius, “only I don’t like one thing.”

“What’s that, Julius?” demanded
the Juggins boy.

“By following that Juniper Swamp trail and the
old road Hugh mentions, we’d have to pass close
to that deserted stone quarry; and say, the farmers
all vow it’s sure haunted.”

CHAPTER II

ON THE OLD QUARRY ROAD

When Julius made this assertion, the other fellows
looked at each other in what might be said to be a
queer way. In fact, they had all heard certain
absurd stories told in connection with the old quarry
that had not been worked for so many years that the
road leading to it across country had grown up in
grass and weeds. Some adventurous boys who went
out there once declared it was a most gruesome place,
with pools of water covered with green scum lying
around, and all sorts of holes looking like the cave
Robinson Crusoe found on his island home to be seen
where granite building rocks had been excavated from
the towering cliffs.

It was K.K. who laughed first, actually laughed scornfully,
though Julius took it all so seriously. Thad
Stevens followed with a chuckle, after his peculiar
fashion.

“You give me a pain, Julius, you certainly do,”
ventured K.K.

“To think,” added Thad, assuming a lofty
air of superior knowledge, “of a fellow attending
Scranton High believing the ridiculous yarns these
uneducated tillers of the soil and their hired help
pass around, about there being some sort of a genuine
ghost haunting the old quarry—–­why,
it’s positively silly of you, Julius, and I don’t
mind telling you so to your face.”

“Oh, hold on there, fellows!” expostulated
the other boy; “I didn’t say that I really
and truly believed any of those awful stories, did
I? But so many different persons have told me
the same thing that, somehow, I came to think there
might be some fire where there was so much
smoke. Of course, it can’t be a ghost,
but, nevertheless, there are queer goings-on about
that deserted quarry these nights—–­three
different people, and one of them a steady-going woman
in the bargain, assured me they had glimpsed moving
lights there, a sort of flare that did all sorts of
zigzag stunts, like it was cutting signals in the
air.”